by Kelsea Habecker

hibernaculum

She will long, she will winter, and she will nap.
She will wait for the zero of the mind. 
She will forget all blossoms beyond snow.  
Her philosophies will soak into the mattress.
Her children will only be born in a dream that recurs weekly. 
Her dreams will be fletched arrows, flying.
Her hair will tussock across the pillow, rooting.
She will practice a still water.
She will rehearse in blankets and down.
She will count flocks of fish.
She will tread feathers and drifts.
She will count stitches of the stars’ trajectory.
She will not vigil the season’s flickering wick of dawn.
She will lay like a fog over ice.
She will venerate reclined.
Her ferocity will be faded flannel, forgetful.
She will not get away with morning’s bright greening.
She will marry an endless night.
She will not unquiet.

snow angel

Our forms flutter
against the ground

in late moonlight. What
remains: two pelvis prints

in fresh snow. I figure
an angel outright

floating beside the moth
(dark mouth) of your bones.

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Kelsea Habecker's book of poetry, Hollow Out, was selected by US Poet Laureate Charles Simic and published by New Rivers Press. She earned her MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars and was a finalist for the Ruth Lilly Fellowship in poetry. A new poetry chapbook is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press.